


A Great Mystery

by Deannie



Series: Two Gentlemen of Atlantis [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-27
Updated: 2005-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelenka learns more about Rodney than he'd ever planned to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Great Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> _Takes place between "Rising" and "Hide and Seek"_

Radek Zelenka had made a grave error. It was obvious the moment Rodney McKay sat down at his desk and started the weekly lab meeting. The error seemed even more serious when McKay looked up from the report he had laid out on the surface before him and surveyed the room, singling Radek himself out for a particularly hard glare. 

Yes, Radek thought dismally, truly a grave error. He should never have come to this meeting without having his morning coffee. 

"Good report," McKay said, surprisingly. "Very concise," he continued, his tone becoming more and more biting with every word that came out of his mouth. "I'm sure in Czech, it probably means something very different, but in _English_ , what you're saying is that this device actually makes Starbuck's coffee out of solid human waste!" He threw the report at Radek, who caught it with a muttered Czech curse. "Now why don't you go back and write a report that makes some _sense_?" 

McKay all but dismissed him by picking up another report and looking around for his next victim, and Radek took the opportunity to turn and go, ignoring the sympathetic looks from the rest of the staff. He should be giving _them_ the sympathy--McKay was not done with the "rest of these idiots," after all. 

Oh, the man was an ass! What Radek had actually said in his report was that the device they'd found in that storage locker right off the gateroom had the potential to convert small-scale waste into small-scale usable energy. It could be extremely useful as a portable generator, if they could figure out its inner workings. But of course, it was McKay's job to twist everything the other scientists said to make them all look like fools in front of the rest of the lab. It was really the worst kind of childishness! 

Radek needed coffee. A great deal of it, in fact. 

Stalking off to the commissary worked off a bit of his anger, but he still managed to slam his coffee mug down in such a way that Dr. Beckett, who sat at a table near the food counter, jumped in surprise. Carson Beckett--now he was a perfectly nice man. Radek had gotten to know him in Antarctica, and Beckett was friendly, pleasant... All in all, everything that McKay was not. 

"Bad day already?" Beckett asked mildly. 

Radek reined in his anger and sighed, filling his coffee cup. "With Rodney McKay, the day cannot help but begin badly." 

Beckett's smile was sympathetic, and he gestured for Radek to join him. "Aye, Rodney is a handful." 

"He is annoying and rude," Radek corrected as he sat. Ah, caffeine! He drank another long draught and started to feel a bit better. How, he wondered, would he survive McKay when they ran out of coffee? 

Beckett studied him for a moment, and Radek had the idea that the doctor was sizing him up. "Rodney's a bit... abrasive, certainly. But what he lacks in tact he makes up for in genius." 

Again, Radek observed with an internal sigh. Rodney McKay was a genius and therefore, he had the right to treat people however he pleased. Radek put down his coffee cup with a little less force this time. "That does not mean that he can belittle the rest of us and treat us like so many moronic underlings." 

Beckett nodded. "He's not really a people person, is he?" The doctor sat back slightly. "I'd apologize for him, but it wouldn't do any good. He'll only do it again." 

Yes, he would, and it was no good for Beckett to apologize for the man the way a wife would for her husband. The whole thing irritated Radek to no end. Behind McKay's self-important, pompous, mean-spirited façade, Radek wasn't sure there was anything other than a self-important, pompous, mean-spirited soul. 

Though Beckett seemed to like the man. Why, Radek had no idea. But he had grown to think of Carson as something nearing a friend now, and he felt compelled to ask him. "How do you deal with him? You seem to be the most unlikely of companions." 

A strange look came over Beckett's face, as if he knew how to answer the question, but didn't wish to reveal that much. After a long moment, he sighed. 

"Rodney is... when he's in a good mood, he can be a lot of fun." 

Radek snorted his opinion of that description. 

"You've never seen him in a good mood, I take it," Carson asked with a smile. 

"I did not know he had one." 

"I'm not sure he does, here. I've really no idea why he even chose to come--hell, I've no idea why _I_ came!" 

Radek kindly chose not to mention that he'd seen no sign of a good mood from McKay in Antarctica, either, and he nodded his understanding of Beckett's sentiment. At least here, he could understand the stress. When Radek was offered the chance to come to the Pegasus galaxy, he had looked at it as just another long-term research assignment. He had nothing at home, so the prospect of never going back didn't give him much more than a moment's pause. He had not reckoned on the dangers here. He would never have thought that going off to explore a new galaxy would result in the loss of so many lives so quickly. 

But life was life, and death was part of it, and they were here now, so they may as well find out as much as they could about the Ancient technology in the hopes of preventing another, deadlier, attack. 

This was exceedingly difficult when the chief science officer was almost impossible to work with! He said as much to Beckett, who considered it. 

"It's funny. Rodney's really quite a good leader sometimes. A good man." He sighed. "I'm sure, once we've all had a chance to calm down and settle in, that you'll find there's more to McKay than meets the eye." He rose and grinned apologetically. "I'd better get to the infirmary. Lord knows who's broken a bone while we've been chatting." 

Radek nodded him off and spent a long moment contemplating his empty coffee cup. 

If there was more to Rodney McKay than met his eye, he wasn't sure he really wanted to see it. 

* * * * * 

It was the Atlantean equivalent of 9:00 pm before Radek had a chance to even consider the backlog of devices sitting on his workbench. He'd spent the day helping Grodin with the water reclamation subroutines, and he was bone-weary by the time he returned to the laboratory. 

To find that Rodney McKay was the only person there. Wonderful. 

He chose to ignore the other man, and was glad when McKay did the same. It was, perhaps, better this way. If they just interacted as infrequently as possible, things might go more smoothly. 

And so, to the pile of mysteries. 

Radek was again annoyed that there was only a small number of people who possessed the ATA gene. And he was more annoyed that he was not one of them. Half of the devices that lay before him were dormant, waiting for the daily "turning on," when the science group roped in as many of the ATA crew as they could and had them walk around touching things. Under controlled conditions, of course. It would not do to blow up the city now that they'd finally found it. 

Dr. Beckett was working on a synthetic virus to graft the gene into the DNA of the rest of the expedition, and Radek could only hope he would come up with a breakthrough soon. It would save a great deal of time. 

One of the inactive devices looked something like a lightsaber. It had a half-meter-long cylindrical shaft with a sort of "cap" at one end--a thick disk that had a larger circumference than the rest of it. Radek picked it up carefully and moved it toward a clear space on the lab bench, freezing for a moment when two small strips of blue glass on the sides of the main cylinder lit up at his touch. They hadn't found many devices that activated for people who did not possess the Ancient gene. And the ones they did find had a tendency to blow up. 

Nothing blew up, however, and there was no large, self-contained laser suddenly sticking out from the thing waiting for Darth Vader, so he set it carefully on the surface before him and scanned it for energy readings. 

They were strange... not like anything he'd seen from any of the other small devices... The readings _were_ very like those they were getting from one of the consoles in the gateroom, however--one of the ones whose purpose they'd yet to divine. Perhaps... 

He stood up, looking around for the Ancient portable scanner Major Sheppard had managed to activate yesterday. McKay had figured out a way to interface it with their computers (and was still insufferably smug about the achievement), and it was proving amazingly sensitive. Leaving the lightsaber glowing on his bench, he headed for the far corner of the room where he'd last seen the machine. 

The lightsaber gave a little buzz as he passed by the end of it, then it jumped slightly and began to roll off the bench. Radek reached back to catch it before it could hit the ground--and no doubt explode. His hand gripped it firmly while it was still a meter from the floor and he dropped it immediately as a searing pain shot up his arm. 

" _Zatraceně!*_ " 

The lightsaber dropped to the ground with a thunk--and still didn't explode--and for a moment, Radek found himself staring stupidly at the blood running down his arm. The moment passed as the real pain of the injury made itself known and he settled his bottom unceremoniously on the ground beside the offending device. With a little gasp for the effort, he managed to roll the lightsaber away from him without doing any further damage. It was still glowing--brighter now--and it hummed in a sort of disjointed way. Two long spikes had sprung out of the cap to run down along the sides of the main cylinder, and the fact that they were both streaked with blood suggested that they must have shot out just as he caught it, slicing deeply into his hand. 

As if his day could possibly get worse, he dimly heard brisk footsteps heading toward him, and the irritating bark of McKay's voice broke through the buzzing in Radek's head. 

"Zipniki, what the hell are you-- _you're bleeding!_ " 

The sudden panic in McKay's voice fit Radek's mindset quite well, actually. Though now that he had his left hand clamped over the wound on his right palm, he was beginning to realize that the injury was probably not all that serious. He tried to wiggle his fingers and ended up hissing as the world went grey around him. 

McKay did not seem to agree about the severity of the injury, and knelt beside him, looking a bit like a deer in headlights once Radek's vision had cleared again. 

"We should get you to the infirmary," McKay announced briskly. "As long as Carson's still on duty--because Dr. Listry is a butcher. What am I saying, Beckett's always on duty." McKay looked Radek in the eyes, and the Czech was surprised to see compassion and worry in the searching gaze. 

Did Rodney McKay worry? About idiots? 

Apparently so, as his voice turned almost gentle. "Are you okay? You're not dizzy, are you? Because I can call the infirmary for a stretcher if we need to, but you might bleed out by then." McKay looked down at Radek's bloody hands and blanched. Surprisingly, however, the chief scientist pulled himself together a bit and jumped up to get a rag that was lying on one of the lab benches nearby. Radek found himself just watching in amazement as the self-assured, pompous man went to pieces over a simple injury. 

Well, yes, not a simple injury, then. It looked as though the spikes had managed to slice through both his palm and his fingers, and the wounds were still bleeding steadily despite the pressure he had on them. Dusana's joking first aid lessons came back to him: He should put pressure on the wrist--stop the blood from ever reaching the wound... 

Meanwhile, McKay returned, clutching the rag he'd procured and dropping to his knees beside Radek once again. "It's probably dirty, but it's better than--don't let go of it!" 

Radek gave him a withering glare as he squeezed his left hand tight over his right wrist. "I am trying to apply the proper pressure, Dr. McKay," he muttered. Really, this man was probably more trouble than help at this point. The only good thing that came from the exchange was that Radek was able to confirm that he could still move his fingers. They didn't make the fist he wanted them to, but they twitched in response to his irritation. 

"Oh, right. Right, well then..." McKay met Radek's eyes again, worry still bright in his own. Radek had no idea what to make of it. "Can you get up?" he asked, offering a hand. 

Radek looked at him dubiously, wondering that the man before him was actually a well-respected physicist. How, exactly, was he supposed to take McKay's hand and lever himself up while still keeping pressure on his wrist? He settled for carefully curling his legs under him and letting McKay drag on his left elbow to get him to his feet, where he swayed dangerously. 

"Whoa," McKay murmured, catching him before he could fall. The man was almost comforting. It must have been the blood loss that made him seem so, yes? And blood loss also must have made McKay's wrapping of the wound seem gentle. "Okay, now you won't drip all over the halls." McKay looked at the soaking bandage. "Much." He gave Radek an almost-warm, almost-encouraging grin. "Shall we?" 

As Radek allowed himself to be led to the infirmary, stumbling more and more as they neared it, he decided that, just maybe, Carson Beckett had been correct about Rodney McKay after all. 

* * * * * 

Two hours later, Radek had developed a number of hypotheses. 

The first was that Dusana had been right all those years: he was a horrible judge of what was serious and what was not when it came to injuries. Dr. Beckett had been less than pleased with him for "trying to take the hand off completely," and had a nurse give him thirty stitches while Beckett himself started an IV to make sure that Radek's fluid levels didn't get too low. The two long spikes had indeed caught him both across the palm and across the inside of his fingers, and the wounds had bled quite a lot, which made the last few minutes of his trek to get help seem a bit of a blur. 

Now, with his hand well-bandaged and what seemed a ridiculous amount of painkillers flowing into him from the IV, Radek was resigned to spending the rest of the night in the infirmary. Which, he could hear Dusana saying, was only what he deserved for being so foolish as to play with things he didn't understand. 

Speaking of which, he'd developed a hypothesis about the lightsaber as well. It was probably some sort of weapon. Not a lightsaber sort of weapon, obviously, but possibly some kind of addition to the weapons system. Which meant that, in all likelihood, the console in the gateroom, the one whose energy signature was so like the lightsaber's, was probably the weapons console. 

Or something like it. 

He sighed, unable to come up with more evidence of his theory. He was exhausted--he had _been_ exhausted before the trauma of this evening had even started. He should really rest comfortably, as ordered, and face tomorrow with a clearer head. But there was one more hypothesis his mind seemed determined to pursue. 

Rodney McKay was really not so bad. 

It was an unlikely hypothesis, to be sure, but he had at least some empirical evidence. 

   
McKay had accompanied him to the infirmary and helped him settle carefully on one of the hospital gurneys, at which point the man had erupted in a flurry of nervous energy and demanded that "somebody get Carson over here right now before this guy bleeds to death!" Which, really, was very unlikely. 

Beckett had appeared after a moment, berated Radek for "messing about" with things he did not understand, and had a nurse prepare to stitch up Radek's wounds... And then Beckett had turned to McKay, who stood nervously by the bed. 

"You've done your good deed for the day, Rodney," the doctor had said, his voice both calm and understanding, though there was an edge of good-natured irritation to it. "Dr. Zelenka will be fine." 

Even as Radek had winced at the needle that provided a local anesthetic for his hand, he could see that McKay had seemed almost reticent to leave, as if he was unsure of Beckett's pronouncement. And then, like a curtain had fallen over his features, he was suddenly the irritating man Radek had been dealing with for more than a year. 

" _He'll_ be fine," McKay had barked, as if he hadn't been gravely concerned just moments before. "But what about that device he dropped--it's probably in a dozen pieces on the floor in the lab. And even if it isn't, it'll probably kill the next person who touches it." He'd tapped his commlink and turned away, heading out the door with a far too officious air. "Major Sheppard, I need you in the lab... Yes, immediately--did you think I called you in the middle of the night to chat?" 

Dr. Beckett had shaken his head, and met Radek's slightly befuddled gaze with a smile. 

"One thing you'll learn about Rodney," Beckett had murmured as he'd come over to check Radek's IV before bustling off to his other duties. "He's a bit of a worrier." 

   
Which still left Radek pondering these two hours later. 

Why would the man present such a front of irritability if he was not such a man? "No, no, Radek," he chided himself. "That makes no sense. You are on too many drugs." He lay back a bit more fully. 

"And you're more than a bit exhausted, I'd wager." 

Radek looked up in surprise, because Carson Beckett had appeared by magic at his bedside! Yes, he thought silently, too many drugs. 

"You are still here," he stated, his confusion at the doctor's sudden appearance almost turning it into a question. 

Beckett sighed. "One of the Athosians fell down a flight of stairs," he explained. "Not too bad a break, but he's a big man and it took a bit of muscle to set the bone." He gave Radek a penetrating once-over. "How are you doing, then?" 

"Tired," he admitted. "And feel a bit foolish." The drugs were making him lose all control of English language. He would start muttering in Czech soon, at this rate. That would, no doubt, irritate McKay if he were here--though maybe not tonight, as worried as the man had seemed... 

Perhaps it was the drugs in Radek's system that made him look at Beckett very closely and say, with great consternation, "Rodney McKay confuses me." 

Beckett smiled at him, absently checking the state of the IV in Radek's good hand. "He does that with most of us, at first," he commiserated. 

Radek persisted. "But... he is obviously capable of being decent man. Why does he choose not to?" 

Hah. There was no answer to that, was there? 

Beckett stood silently for a moment, before a look came over his face. It was a look of reminisence that again made Radek think of man and wife. 

"Rodney takes a bit of getting used to," Beckett finally offered. He sputtered a small laugh. "The first time I met him, I thought he was a right ass." 

"He is ass," Radek agreed, his eyes closing in exhaustion. 

"Aye, but he's a loveable ass." 

"And you do love him, don't you?" Radek murmured, freezing as the words came out of his mouth. 

Oh, yes. Far too many drugs. That was not a question to ask. It did not matter that he had seen the two fight like old married couple or that Beckett had that look in his eyes when he made allowances for McKay's behavior... That was simply far too personal a question... 

But he still opened his eyes to catch the look on Beckett's face that told him everything he needed to know. It was old and yearning, and very familiar. 

"No," he declared, answering his own question, unable to stop himself. "You do not now. But you did once, yes?" 

This was a very bad discussion to be having. He should really not be having it at all. Was not at all appropriate. But he continued to watch Beckett, who sighed after a moment and gave him a very significant look. 

"I think Rodney would rather you kept that to yourself," Carson finally said heavily. 

Yes. Yes, that would be best. 

"And you?" Radek asked, because he'd come this far, so really, why not go for the entire pie? 

At that, a smile finally blossomed on Beckett's face, though it was sad and a bit tired. "Do you really think _I_ would surprise anyone?" he asked, giving Radek's good arm one last pat. "Sleep. I'll likely discharge you in the morning. Not that you'll be working for a bit, but at least you can relax in your own quarters." 

Radek nodded. That would be very nice, actually. "Good night, Dr. Beckett," he muttered sleepily, laying back and closing his eyes once more as the other man slipped out of the room. He really did have much to ponder. 

Because while it was true that Carson Beckett would, perhaps, be no surprise to anyone, it seemed that for Radek at least, Rodney McKay was turning out to be a very big surprise indeed. 

* * * * * 

Radek was not happy. 

He was bored, and he was in pain, but at least he was comfortably seated in his own quarters, on his own bed, with his hand propped up on pillows. He wanted his laptop and perhaps a few Ancient devices to work with, and he wanted his pain pills. 

Unfortunately, the pain pills had to be taken with food, which meant a trip to the commissary, and that was certainly too much to expect of him at this particular moment. So he sat where he was and thought about the device that had put him in this position in the first place. 

He knew what it was now. At least, he thought he knew. Really, it could be one of only two things, unless the Ancients were so unlike Earthlings in logic as to devise a cylinder like that solely for the purpose of removing a person's hand. 

...Well, yes, perhaps that was the point. And really, it was very like Earth logic, now he thought about it. That would be very sad, really. 

He was jolted out of his morose thoughts on human violence by the buzz of his door bell. 

"Come in." Ah good. Perhaps Dr. Beckett had thought to have someone check on him and he could convince the person to go downstairs and get him something to eat... 

Instead of the nurse Radek half-expected, Rodney McKay walked in, carrying a plate of food that looked nothing like an MRE--but actually was one--balanced on a laptop. His right hand also had three fingers gripped tightly around two bottles of water. As Radek watched in amazement, McKay placed the whole group of unlikely presents on the table beside the bed and straightened up, looking decidedly uncomfortable. 

"So, um... How are you feeling?" he asked diffidently. 

Radek shrugged with his left shoulder. He thought it was fairly evident that he was in pain, but healing, so he said nothing. Also, the fact that McKay was here at all was very confusing to him. 

McKay shifted on his feet. "Um, Carson was planning to send someone down to make sure you ate and took those horse-pills of his, and I wanted to find out exactly what you did to that device anyway, so..." He gestured to the food. 

Radek hid a smile. Really, McKay wasn't so bad, was he? Certainly not _quite_ the ass he thought to make himself appear. "And the laptop?" he asked, watching McKay become more uncomfortable still. 

"Well... wouldn't want you to get bored, would we?" McKay asked with a small grin. "And I figured you could still type with your left hand." His gaze darted to Radek's heavily bandaged right hand and he swallowed thickly. 

"Thank you," Radek offered. "It was very nice of you. Was getting bored." 

"Yes, well, as I said," his visitor replied briskly, "We can't have that." 

McKay seemed not to want to make a production of his kindness, so Radek let it go. "What happened to the device?" 

Now that Radek had changed the subject, McKay seemed more comfortable. "Well, when Major Sheppard tried to pick it up, it turned off and the... you know--the spikes went back in. It doesn't seem to be damaged at all, and Grodin's been analyzing the power signature. We think we've finally determined--" 

"It is computer lock." The one theory that really did fit all the variables slipped into place in Radek's brain. 

McKay seemed most put out by this development. "How did you know that?" 

Radek shrugged. "Makes sense. It activated when a non-Ancient touched. The spikes are not a weapon, but grounding rods to shut off power flowing to the computer console--the energy signature matches console five in the gateroom." 

McKay looked at him in what Radek could only term "irritated awe." "We figured that out this morning. There's a port in the console that looks like it would fit that thing." Oh, McKay was well and truly irritated now, and trying very hard not to show it. Instead, he rocked back on his heels, crossed his arms, and tried to look intimidating. 

It was rather amusing, actually. 

McKay continued to attempt his dressing down of the idiot underling. "So, you found all that out, and you touched it anyway?" Now that Radek was aware that it could be there, he could hear the undercurrent of worry in the tone. 

"I did not know what it was when I picked it up," he admitted. Indeed, he hadn't actually figured it all out until this very minute. But he wasn't going to give McKay the satisfaction of knowing that. 

And, happily, McKay didn't seem satisfied in the least. "Well you could have saved us all a sleepless night if you'd told us that before," he griped in a tone that said that this whole thing was ultimately Radek's own fault. "For all we knew it could have been some booby-trap, designed to kill every non-Ancient in Atlantis, and you just had to go and blithely turn it on!" 

Again, Radek chose not to answer. He felt the damage to his hand said it all, really. It was not something a sane person would choose to do to himself. 

McKay cleared his throat, uncomfortable again. Radek rather liked the man uncomfortable. At least then, he was relatively pleasant. 

"Beckett tells me you'll be out for a week at least--and then we'll have to wait for the stitches to come out and your hand to recover." Which was all a great trial for McKay and meant more work for him and more laying around being useless for Radek, yes? "But, like I said, you can type with your left hand, right?" Did he sound as if he _wanted_ Radek to help? "Grodin's having a hard time with that subroutine that programs the monthly bilge purges for the desalination tanks." He placed the laptop very carefully beside Radek on the bed. "If you're bored, you could take a look." 

Radek nodded, trying not to grin. Whyever did McKay try so hard to be difficult? Beckett was right--the man could be very nice to be around when he was not being an ass. 

McKay nodded in response--decisively, as if he'd made it through without revealing any weakness. "Right, well. Beckett will blame me if you don't eat all of that, so..." He gestured to the plate of food as he edged toward the door. "Eat it." 

And with that, he left. 

Radek shook his head. Truly, Rodney McKay was a most surprising person. A great mystery. 

And Radek had always loved a mystery. 

* * * * * * *  
The End 

_Zatraceně!_ = goddamn it!


End file.
